


A Moment Lost in Time

by Hresvelgion_Whisker



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Suicide, timeloop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hresvelgion_Whisker/pseuds/Hresvelgion_Whisker
Summary: Byleth feels something tearing at her heart. It guides her closer to her real destiny, where both sides of time will be revealed to her.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	A Moment Lost in Time

**Author's Note:**

> (This is still a work in progress and needs some editing, but I'm glad i got it to an at least serviceable point just in time for Edelgard's birthday)

Byleth moved towards her target with singular determination. Her pace was quick, but steady. Something drew her forward. Like a hook lodged between her ribs it pulled her forward. Guided her, urged her. Like a moth fluttering aimlessly through the darkness that was now enamoured by a flame. At her right side she held the Sword of the Creator, the blade to which the thread of her fate was bound, the blade that she had used to cut loose the threads of so many others. The faces of those she had claimed swam in and out of view before her, manifesting in the fog that had fallen over the imperial graveyard, gliding past her, whispering to her as she made her way towards her destination, “We must place our faith in her majesty,” “I tried to do the right thing… Lonato…” “That a vile woman… Christophe….””I never should have listened to that idiot…” “Kill every last one of them!” “…I just wanted… to walk with you…” The cacophony in her head grew louder and louder, crashing like a raging sea against the damn of her mind, drowning out any thought until they were silenced by two real, audible voices.  
Byleth hadn’t realised how close she had got to her goal. The pressure in her chest was almost unbearable, as with every inch she covered the feeling in her chest grew harder still. She chose to set aside the yanking at her sternum and focused on the shades in front of her. In was difficult to make out in the fog, but she was sure she could see a group of men in black robes in front of her. The obtrusions where Byleth figured their faces should be could only be the distinctive beak masks worn by the dark mages of those who slithered in the dark. The mages had noticed her and were muttering to each other, trying to figure out how to deal with this intruder. Byleth drew the sword, the bone beneath her fingers feeling ever so familiar as the weapon started glowing, and flicked the blade as to unshackle the weapons true, whip-like form. One of the mages shouted something and turned to run. His companions didn’t waste a second in following him at his feel.  
Byleth withdrew the segments of the blade and re-sheathed it, glad that the mages fled before it had come to bloodshed. It was not their blood that ought to be spilled today. She moved closer to where the mages had been standing, as it dawned on her that this place was also where the feeling in her chest had guided her towards. Before her lay the grave of the last emperor of the former Adrestain Empire, Edelgard von Hresvelg. Byleth stepped closer to the stone monument that marked the grave until finally she could view it whole. As the thick fog obscured most of her field of vision she almost stumbled when she reached the edge of a large whole in the ground before her. The addled blood in her veins froze as she could finally take in the scene before her.  
The earth before her was black and moist, and clearly upturned. Somebody had attempted to unearth the contents of Edelgard’s grave, and clearly had to suspend the deed midway, as they only just managed to strike a hole into her casket. Byleth stood there as the minutes, or hours, she wasn’t exactly sure anymore washed over her, her eyes fixated on those of Edelgard’s corpse. Edelgard’s eyes stared back. Two unmoving, purple jewels, that weirdly seemed to glow despite the lack of light. Her face was pale, like she expected a rotting corpse to be yet it was still oddly pristine, like a doll’s face. Byleth swore that her chest would burst any minute now. The hook in her chest now no longer tried to jank her forward, but downwards, into the earth, towards this woman’s face.

Byleth obliged. She climbed into the hole and cowered over the window into Edelgard’s casket. Her eyes did not move, nor did she make any other sign of recognising Byleth. Her eyes continued to stare up into the sky as the fog started to clear around the two of them. Byleth could now see the line of her neck where the sword at her side had taken Edelgard’s head of. Being this close to inspect, she could only congratulate the mortician on their work. Byleth expected to smell the rancid odour a rotting corpse emanated, too. But other than upturned earth and decomposing wood, she smelled nothing.  
The moonlight now feel upon the scene and reflected on Edelgard’s eyes, causing them to shine even brighter. “El…”  
Byleth didn’t know where the thought came from. She had never offered her the privilege of a nickname when she still had been Edelgard’s teacher, yet somehow it felt… familiar? Right, even?  
She finally relented to the feeling in her chest and pressed her lips on hers. The kiss didn’t even last a second before Byleth had to throw her head back. Her hands pressed to the side of her skull as a stream of memories was flushed into her head by a whirling vortex of time.  
She screamed.

The moments passed as while Byleth sat next to Edelgard’s grave. The blood beneath her skin was boiling. She had stopped fighting the torrent of pictures and impressions that had started flooding her and instead tried to make sense of it all, to put them into prespective and stablish a sequence she could fathom.  
One after another the pieces fell into place and she recognised they were memories. Her memories. The memories of past versions of her. She had lived before. She witnessed her birth and how she grew up. How she had come to Garregh Mach monastery and chose to teach the Blue Lion class. How she fought in the war. How she was crowned Archbishop and married the new new king. How he had relapsed into his trauma after a while. How both of them died during a commoner uprising.  
A memory that wasn’t hers flashed before her. She saw her life start again. This time she chose the Golden Deer. She became the supreme ruler of Fodlan after Claude had left her. She had never wanted power like that.  
Another memory flashed before her that didn’t fit in. She saw a woman next to a river, behind a canvas. She felt herself emerging from the waters, a fish in her mouth. The laughter that carried over from the river bank filled her with warmth and contentedness.  
Then the memories of her second past self took over her head once again. She was at a boring political meeting deciding on how to best implement tariffs on good imported from Almyra. Then another flash of a memory that wasn’t hers; he saw the cardinals of the Church of Seiros agree to a plan to kill somebody. Money was exchanged, words were muttered and she feld a cold blade running through her neck.  
Again her life started anew. And this time she was sure this was her present self. The stream of memories led her up to this moment, but one memory stuck out to her. A familiar voice that run inside her head.  
“Both sides of time are revealed to you know.”  
Byleth opened her eyes. She finally understood. The memories she was seeing, were hers from past lives. She was bound to time, damned to relive her life over and over. Her memories fleeting every time she died so he could start anew. The flashes of unfamiliar images came from times flow itself. Still frames of happenings none of her past selves attended, but brought to her now that her crest was resonating.  
She chewed on that last sentence. But why was it resonating now? Where did this sensation of her blood boiling come from?  
Then another series of still frames hit her. A dark cellar, the injection of defiled holy blood, the screams of children, the rats, the chains and… her face. Edelgard’s face as her body accepted the blood, the source of this tingling in her arteries. As with another flash, she saw a green haired woman implanted a hot red stone into the chest of a baby. The images began to run into each other, to merge until she no longer knew where she ended and Edelgard began, if the dark sorcerer injected blood into her, or the green haired woman implanted the stone into her.  
The image of the woman at the river returned to her. A glimpse into a happy future, two lives shared as one. Another final flash and she saw the red stone shattering within her chest, crumbling and releasing her from the strings of fate.  
This time she knew, this was the future, one possible future for her. If she so pleased.  
This was her destiny, one she could carve for herself.  
Unsteadily she walked over to the grave. Her head was still pounding.  
She lay herself down onto the moist earth and tightened her grip onto her sword. She raised it above her chest.

Then she plunged it into her. She felt it pierce her heart with ease and re-emerge from her back. She felt her blood trickle down the edge of her blade and into Edelgard’s grave. As darkness closed in on her she felt how the stone in her chest dragged her with it through the vortex of time, which began to reclaim the memories it had shared with her. She could feel how her self dissolved into the current as she fell until there was nothing but an endless haze.  
Then the fog cleared and she was back where it all started. One last time. One last time to relive her life and finally reach for her hand.


End file.
